Dreams you dare to dream

I was never a big believer in “signs.” That is, until I was slapped in the face by one … repeatedly … over and over again.

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By Adam Leech

seacoastonline.com

By Adam Leech

Posted Dec. 13, 2013 at 8:05 AM
Updated Dec 13, 2013 at 8:10 AM

By Adam Leech

Posted Dec. 13, 2013 at 8:05 AM
Updated Dec 13, 2013 at 8:10 AM

» Social News

I was never a big believer in “signs.” That is, until I was slapped in the face by one … repeatedly … over and over again.

It’s been eight years since I proposed to Barbara on Christmas Day 2005, a year that brought about a number of changes. And it all started with a big old punch in the face.

In the wee hours of New Year’s Day 2005, a friend and I — both 24 and a bit, ahem, inebriated, at the time — thought it would be fun to have a pretend boxing match in the middle of a party. I don’t remember why, but I’m sure it made sense at the time.

Anyhow, one of us took it seriously and the other ended up with two black eyes, a sliced cheek and a broken nose. (Guess which one was me!)

After surgery and more than a month of going to assignments and having to lie to people about my very visible injuries, it was quite clear it was time to grow up. I just had no idea how much growing I’d end up doing.

One of the people who teased me most at the time was my editor. Barbara and I had worked together for two years and had become close friends. We often went out after work, sometimes with co-workers and sometimes without, to talk about work but mostly about life. She was in the final legal throes of a marriage that had ended two year prior, and it was a time of anguish and doubt.

At the time, neither of us had ever considered the other as a potential mate. She was 13 years older with two teenage daughters and a mortgage.

Meanwhile, I was living with a buddy of mine, and not doing much besides working and hanging out with friends who punched me in the face.

During this period of change, I started seeing a reiki practitioner, Judy, who was a friend of a friend of my mother. My sessions inspired me to develop my perspective on the world and attempt to learn from the events of my life.

I thought it would help Barbara, so I arranged for her to have a session.

Judy told Barbara her pain was very deep, that it was devouring her — she must learn from it and then let it go because it happened for a reason.

She felt Barbara had a healthy, loving relationship in her future. She instructed her to pray for guidance and warned her that following the path would take courage. She also said Barbara would know it when the time came, to pay attention to a certain touch, and, though Judy didn’t know why, she felt compelled to tell her to “look for the rainbow.”

Months later, after several further sessions, Barbara built up the courage to tell me Judy had mentioned she felt there was something more to Barbara and I than friendship. I confessed that I had been told this as well, but wasn’t sure how, or if, to act on it.

The next day we went out after work to discuss our feelings about a relationship. After Barbara recounted her instructions to pay attention to a certain touch, I reached out to hold her hand.

Then I heard it. I was visibly stunned. Barbara asked what was wrong.

“Listen,” I said.

She did, and her mouth dropped.

We sat in silence as Ray Charles’ version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” echoed through the Tavern. Barbara had found the rainbow.

We knew we had to give this relationship a chance, understanding that it could be a difficult transition for everyone. Six months later, I was buying a ring and asking her daughters for permission to marry their mother.

I decided to propose on Christmas Day and I found a beautiful lacquer jewelry box with a black and white print of Dorothy and Toto on the top that played “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I planned to hide the ring inside and have it under the tree as we unwrapped presents with my family and the girls Christmas morning.

Though things had admittedly moved along quite quickly, I was very confident this was the right decision. Any confirmation I needed came in the week leading up to Christmas.

Barbara woke up one morning and said that “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was continually playing in the background of a dream with no particular meaning. Over the next few days, rainbows were everywhere. The song played repeatedly — on movies, on the radio, even the episode of “South Park” had a “Wizard of Oz” theme.

“What does it all mean?” Barbara said. I just shrugged in quiet amazement.

About halfway through the tree on Christmas morning, my father handed her a harmless-looking package. She opened it and was enjoying the soft dinging of our song, when she saw what was in the jewelry box. She looked over to find me on my knee, blubbering some words I had recited a million times and still could not remember, and said yes.

Six months later, she walked down the aisle to the only song we felt was appropriate for the occasion.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true.”

Adam W. Leech lives with his wife, Barbara, and two young sons in Southern Maine. He can be reached at awleech@yahoo.com.